Fabergé: would you shell out for eggs like these?

Fabergé's new jewels are somewhere between exquisite and ghastly.

BY Hannah Betts |
12 August 2011

Faberge recently opened its first store in London since 1915 Photo: CLARA MOLDEN

The name Fabergé conjures a decadent romanticism of lost empires, snowy wastes - and blingy Easter eggs. The first such coruscating ornament was commissioned from Imperial Goldsmith and Jeweller Carl Fabergé in 1885 by Tsar Alexander II for his Tsarina (Easter being the foremost Orthodox festival.) It was a tradition maintained by his son and grandson, so that the eggs became a Romanov in-joke, invariably containing a surprise in the manner of a priceless incarnation of today's Kinder Eggs.

The ultimate symbol of their age, a final two bejewelled eggs were in preparation when Tsar Nicholas II and his family were executed in 1918. His daughters, the Grand Duchesses Olga, Tatiana, Maria and Anastasia, survived the first hail of bullets having effectively Fabergéd themselves with more than 1.3 kilograms of diamonds and precious gems sewn into their garments. During the Soviet era, Fabergé fell profoundly out of favour in its homeland along with aristocracy, religion and all other imperial indulgences.

Almost a century on, it's back. And not only that, Fabergé is - as fashion folk are wont to declare - "having a moment". The Fabergé egg has staged a return and it is - pardon the pun - cracking.

In addition to The Dress (the Duchess of Cambridge's wedding frock), Buckingham Palace's Summer Opening boasts an evocative exhibition of the Fabergé objets owned by the Royal Collection. Queen Victoria (Nicholas II's grandmother-in-law) and her heirs have been steadfast enthusiasts: a habit that, in the wake of the Revolution, was a gesture of familial and political solidarity. The Russian monarchy may have been eradicated, but its British kinsmen kept a glinting faith, the principal trophies of which are currently on display.

Not only this, but Fabergé as a brand is back in business. The South African mining entrepreneur Brian Gilbertson purchased it in 2007, with the ambition to build his company into a global jewellery empire. Fabergé was relaunched with great pomp in 2009. Now it is ready to present its first hatching of eggs since the Tsars. Les Fameux de Fabergé is an assembly of 12 high-jewellery ovoids the size of toddlers' fists, to be worn as pendants or displayed as objets d'art. Each is inspired by a Russian proverb.

The enterprise benefits from the presence of Carl's great-granddaughters, Tatiana and Sarah Fabergé, as sources of historical guidance, while its advertising campaign was shot with a dream team comprising fashion-snapper-cum-royal-portraitist Mario Testino and former French Vogue editrix Carine Roitfeld.

Prices range from - brace yourselves - £62,875 to £377,230, meaning that, although I have now sported several of these weighty baubles, I was not permitted to be in a room with them on my own.

There will also be entry-level pieces with Les Frissons de Fabergé, a collection of jewellery egg pendants with a repertoire of 60 different designs. And very jolly they are too. I would like to say that these are for the likes of thee and me, but with a starting price of £3,500, I fear I am again priced out.

Some would argue that this is no bad thing, with even the original Fabergé creations poised between the exquisite and the ghastly; they are astonishing examples of craftsmanship to produce a tasteless rich man's knick-knack. And one can perhaps see why the Bolsheviks felt that the firm should be first against the wall when the Revolution came.

But surely the collection has missed its moment in these recession-hit times. Tatiana Zherebkina, Faberge's charming PR manager, puts me right: "The egg pendants have already been extremely well-received and are regarded as heirloom pieces. They were created to fulfil demand."

I can see their appeal as investments-one-can-wear to individuals with as much money as taste. However, much as I would not turn my nose up at a £365,000 diamond-encrusted grenade/disco ball, I prefer the original eggs, picture frames and cigarette cases on show at Buck House - true products of a time and place.

The most affecting exhibit is the pale green and pink Colonade Imperial Easter Egg, acquired by George V and Queen Mary in 1931. An egg-cum-rotary clock, it takes the form of a kitsch temple and is a poignant allegory of the imperial family as it was in 1910.

In the middle of four bowenite columns two doves canoodle, representing the enduring love between the Tsar and Tsarina. Four girl cherubs, symbolising their daughters, perch about its base, while the doomed infant Alexei Nikolaevich sits aloft as Cupid.

It cost 11,600 roubles at a time when resentment of the Romanovs was lurching toward its final, fatal phase, and is as beautiful and awful a tribute to the fallen dynasty as one could conjure.

Royal Fabergé is part of the Summer Opening of the State Rooms at Buckingham Palace, Jul 23-Oct 3. Tickets:
www.royalcollection.org.uk
or 020 7766 7300. Les Fameux de Fabergé and Les Frissons de Fabergé are available from
faberge.com